


Starlights

by Anuna



Series: the inhumans 'verse [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gift Fic, Introspection, Lincoln POV, and set somewhere in later half i guess, but can be read and treated as a stand alone fic, christmas and holiday themes, compliant with season 3, hurt an comfort, ish, part of a series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 18:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9083506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anuna/pseuds/Anuna
Summary: She cries and he holds her tighter, kissing her hair and whispering things; things like I'm here, and I'll always be here for you; so many promises he probably shouldn't be making, but he doesn't care. Because there's just one thing in the world left for him that he can call home.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhatIsDeadMayNeverDie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatIsDeadMayNeverDie/gifts).



> Written for my friend **hesparks** , as a small thank you for... well, everything. Kindness and understanding and acceptance, and for offering me a new perspective on a character I didn't like and then ended up _loving_. (And shhh, you'll notice how many of our conversations and your headcanons - which I accepted as my own - have went into this story.) 
> 
> This is a prequel to my Inhumans series, which may not be everyone's cup of tea, but you don't have to know anything about it to be able to read, and hopefully enjoy this fic. 
> 
> And finally, this is my first time writing Daisy and Lincoln and focusing only on them, and hopefully I managed to do them justice. (And quite honestly, yes, I write for that other pairing most of the time, and I'm almost scared to post this and I hope I'm not offending anyone. having said that, I hope the fic turned out okay. Thank you for checking it out. :) 
> 
> Merry Christmas and happy holidays!

There's a discontent atmosphere when he walks into the cargo area and takes a glance at Daisy and Coulson, which seems to snap like a rubber band the moment he enters the room. Daisy sighs and her shoulders sag a little as Coulson leaves.

 

“What was that about?” Lincoln asks. She looks a tiny bit upset but waves his concern away.

 

“It's not a big deal,” she says. “Ready to go?”

 

“Sure thing,” Lincoln tells her, entering the SUV near which she's standing.

 

Daisy drives. She doesn't directly ask for it, but he guesses she would like to, and he is right. The tension in her muscles loosens as they cross miles and she focuses at the task at hand. She is a kind of person who likes to put things in order, feel some kind of control over something to help her cope with the rest. He's not sure what her argument with Coulson was about, but he doesn't pry: she will tell him when she wants to, if she wants.

 

She picks a radio station with Christmas music and starts to hum (slightly off key. He tries not to grin.) The car warms up, and the combination of movement, of trees passing outside the window, the road winding and him relaxing almost lulls him to sleep. He's jostled awake when she hits the breaks (he has no idea what for) and he's pleased to see her grinning at him.

 

“Niiiice,” she says, her tone teasing. “I thought you couldn't wait to spend some time alone with me?”

 

“I would, if I didn't get up at five am,” he says.

 

“Ha,” she says as she passes a couple of slower cars. “Says a doctor. I thought you'd be used to get up early?”

 

“To do my job, yes. Not to punch a boxing bag for half an hour,” he answers, and she's grinning.

 

“Softie.”

 

“Never said I wasn't,” he laughs as they enter town. Lincoln wonders just how long he was out, but decides he'd take the driving task on their way back, since she has to be tired too. (She just won't admit that she is.)

 

“You're way too easy,” she keeps teasing.

 

“Thought you liked that?” he laughs.

 

Daisy grins. “I _do_.”

 

*

 

Her happy grin stays as they enter the shopping mall and honestly all he really wants is to go and get some food. But she drags him with her and he ends up trying out five different sweaters and indulging her as she debates which color looks better on him.

 

“Why am I trying out these?” he asks. His stomach growls but he ignores it. Living a life of a doctor gives you many different skills. Ignoring hunger isn't even the most spectacular one.

 

“Because I like how they look on you?”

 

He's amused; and he has a good idea _why_ she's doing this (and honestly it's not necessary, he's _fine_ , he has stuff to wear that's what matters), but it's still nice. And touching. And frankly, he doesn't remember someone caring for him quite like this since.... _well_. He better not go there and spoil his own happy mood.

 

“You're handsome and good looking no matter what you wear... or _don't_ wear,” she says, smoothing the fabric of a dark grey sweater across his chest. “But I'd like to get you a new sweater. A nice one.”

 

“I like this one,” he says. There's a way she's looking at him, this rare, happy shine in her eyes that makes him forget just for a moment that they have to rely on fake ID cards and a car with plates that aren't listed anywhere. It's just a perfectly ordinary moment.

 

“Would you like that one?”

 

He nods. “Mhmmm. This one is good. But you promised me food too, remember?”

 

She rolls her eyes at him. “You're lucky you're so good looking.”

 

“Oh really? And what if I wasn't?”

 

She squints at him. “I don't know. But I _do_ know you'll look even better when I get you out of that sweater later.”

 

*

 

He goes to the toilet just to remove the tag from his new sweater and put it on. It _is_ nice, but he supposes Daisy likes it way more than he does. That's completely fine with him. He wants to get something nice for her too, but that proves to be harder than he expected because she keeps saying she's fine and she has everything she needs and that she's happy just to get _him_ something. And he gets it, he at least _thinks_ he does, but at the same time he refuses to be the sole point of their shopping trip. Finally he gets her a shawl that's big enough for her to wrap herself in and she kisses him as they walk out of the store. He can see the Christmas decoration and the people around them getting their last minute holiday shopping done and Lincoln realizes that he and Daisy aren't that different from everyone else.

 

In fact, they're not different at all.

 

She picks a fast food restaurant and she lets him order a pile of completely unhealthy food and doesn't even mock him about having so many questionable menu choices. (He constantly bugs her about eating healthy, and eating enough, and just eating in general. In his head it translates into self care. She indulges him most of the time, but she draws a line at Oreos and chocolate cupcakes.) She calmly finishes off two burgers and steals his fries and he lets her. There's more Christmas music on the radio, and they talk about nothing and everything and she just looks happy, and for a moment everything else fades away.

 

Ultimately they have to leave. Daisy suggests they take a walk through the town and he agrees. She wraps her new shawl around herself and hooks her arm with his and it feels so good, it's probably the best feeling ever.

 

They wander about for awhile until they reach something she was probably looking for – a street with nice, neat houses decorated with Christmas lights.

 

It's so _miserably_ cold and she pulls him close and they walk around like that, enjoying the seemingly never ending sea of tiny flickering lights. Daisy looks at them with a smile and looks at them longingly and he leans close to kiss the top of her head. Lincoln feels content, he feels _at peace_ , which is something that's rare. That's why he doesn't notice exactly when her mood shifts.

 

He isn't sure what causes it. He starts to feel it gradually, as if the electric flow of her body has shifted somehow, slowed down and condensed. He looks around for the answer but there isn't anything that wasn't there just a few moments before.

 

“I'm kind of cold,” she says, parting slightly from him and bowing her head.

 

“Let's go back,” he suggests and offers her his arm once more. She takes it, pulling him close. He wants to stop and comfort her right there, but he's not sure what's going on. So they leave and she lets him lead the way, retreating into her own inner world.

 

*

 

They reach the mall and Daisy goes to look for the toilet, which leaves Lincoln wandering on his own, feeling discontent about the complete outcome of their day away from the base. Instead of feeling happy, Daisy is subdued, having pulled herself inward to deal with something she's obviously not ready to talk about.

 

He wants to do _something_ for her, anything, just to bring back even a tiny bit of happiness back with them, and he looks around, not sure what exactly he's looking for.

 

And then he finds himself in front of a perfect gift.

 

 

*

 

“How much longer?” she asks, as she sits cross legged on the bed, with her eyes covered by her hands.

 

“Just a little bit,” he says, trying not to slip and fall from her desk. He's never been an expert in decorating, but when he finishes his job, he thinks what he's managed to do in five or so minutes looks decent. “Okay. You can look,” he says.

 

She pulls her hands away and when she sees what he's done – what he's gotten for her – she pauses with an expression he can't quite read. There's surprise and there's something like happiness, but not quite, and her eyes turn huge, almost as if she might cry.

 

“Oh, Lincoln,” she says as she stares at the tiny star shaped lights flickering above her desk.

 

“Do you like them?”

 

“They're _beautiful_ ,” she says and he can tell she means it. But the mood from before doesn't go away, it just seems somehow amplified. He crosses the distance to her bed and sits next to her. She is lost for a moment, and he observes how tiny little stars reflect in her eyes. “It's just....” she shakes her head. “It's incredibly nice of you.”

 

“They're just Christmas lights,” he says softly and shrugs, but she shakes her head. _Then_ she finally looks at him.

 

“But, um... I never actually had them,” she says.

 

Oh.

 

_Oh._

 

“Daisy, I'm – I'm sorry,” he says, fearing he might have overstepped. _Now_ he gets it. She's shaking her head and wiping her eye with the back of her hand and giving him a self deprecating smile because, hey, _they're just Christmas lights_. But in reality, he suspects they're much more, a symbol of something she never truly had, and still doesn't. Not in the sense of what they've been seeing today. The houses and decorations in the back yard and last minute Christmas shopping.

 

(Someone might say that what she's doing is so much more important than mundane and everyday, and things other people take for granted. That she doesn't really need that kind of life. That this is so much more important and meaningful.

 

Bullshit, he thinks. Because he hasn't met a single person who didn't want to have a _home_.)

 

“God, it's not your fault,” she says, giving up on the smile. He pulls her close and leans his forehead against hers and _then_ she smiles again. “You're sweet. You're _so_ sweet.”

 

“I try,” he says, touching her nose with his and pulling her close to kiss her. She winds her arms about his neck and kisses him back – and what starts out slow and soft turns needy and somehow dark, until she's in his lap and pressed close against him. He's gauging her reactions carefully, his hands about her but not moving below her waistline. She burrows her face against his neck and stays like that, safely tucked in and trying to calm her breathing.

 

“Just hold me?” she asks. He smiles and nods.

 

They settle on her bed, him with his Kindle reader and her propped by the pillow and nestled against his chest, her hand tucked between his arm and his body. She's awake, judging by her breathing, completely calm tucked against him like this, and he strokes her hair and breathes in her scent.

 

“You're so warm,” she says suddenly. He grins.

 

“Happy to be of service,” he says, smiling at the way she's trying to find a better position against his chest. She's quiet for awhile. Then she says something he doesn't really expect.

 

“I miss her sometimes,” she says. The admission is so quiet, so tentative, he's not sure he's heard her right, but then she continues. “I, uh, probably shouldn't considering what she's done... at the end. But for awhile -”

 

She pauses, and Lincoln can hear the tears in her voice. He sets his reader down and pulls Daisy into a proper hug.

 

“I thought I was home,” she says. “I wanted to be home. So badly. It's.... I'm sorry. It's probably foolish to think like that,” she says.

 

“It's _not_ ,” he assures her.

 

“She hurt me,” Daisy says. “And yet....”

 

He closes his eyes. He _knows._ He knows it so well, what it's like to be hurt by someone you live and depend upon. And he knows what it's like to feel at home and feel safe, and then lose it all. She cries and he holds her tighter, kissing her hair and whispering things; things like _I'm here_ , and _I'll always be here for you_ ; so many promises he probably shouldn't be making, but he doesn't care.

 

Because there's just one thing in the world left for him that he can call home.

 

It's her.

 

And he's going to do _anything_ for her.

 

She finally calms down and exhausted, drifts to sleep. Lincoln remains awake, observing the starlights and wondering if they can ever be _completely_ happy. Maybe they can't – maybe perfect happiness is an illusion anyway, but as he watches Daisy's calm face, he knows he doesn't want anything else but to be here, with her.

 

For now that's enough.

 

 

 


End file.
